


The Perfect Gift

by tollofthebells



Series: Art Trade and Gift Fics [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gift Giving, Humor, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 06:46:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18425070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tollofthebells/pseuds/tollofthebells
Summary: When Cullen is unsure about the gift he buys for Annabel, a few Templar friends step in to help.





	The Perfect Gift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [princessvicky01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessvicky01/gifts).



> A prize fic from my recent tumblr giveaway!

“Package for you, Ser.” 

Cullen looks up from what feels like a mountain of paperwork to see his usual mail runner before him, though he’d already received a slew of reports and letters earlier in the morning. This time the runner bears a single box—long, thin, worn from travel and marked from a shop in Denerim where— 

“Right,” he says abruptly, standing at once to take the box and salute the runner, dismissing her. It’s been weeks since he’d placed the order—so long, in fact, that he’d nearly forgotten. As soon as the runner’s murmured a _good afternoon, Ser_ and exited his office, he drops the box on his desk and rushes to peek out each of his three doors— _good, she’s nowhere in sight_ —breathing a sigh of relief when at last he returns to his desk to examine the parcel. He knows Annabel is to meet with Josephine this afternoon—yet another “coaching” lesson from the ambassador in the Game—but it hadn’t hurt to double-check his privacy, anyway. 

The box is light—more so than he’d expected, although he’d written specific measurements for Wade and the blacksmith assured him he’d abide by them. Harritt had promised him he could craft a sword worthy of the Andraste’s Herald and Vivienne had insisted that he need look no further than Val Royeaux for the best weapons, but he was looking for neither the ordinary nor the extraordinary when it came to Annabel. He wanted a sword crafted _right_. And for the best weaponry, stubborn though the thought may seem, he’d trusted no one but a Fereldan, so Wade it was. 

When he pulls the blade from the box, he’s surprised by the detail on the handle and the pommel. Wade had promised functionality first and foremost, but it’s immediately apparent that he spared no expense on the decoration as well. The grip is laden with rubies set in the sigil of the Inquisition, the crossguard elegant and flourishing. Even the flat of the blade is engraved with her initials— _A.T._

_But the size…_

It’s far too too short a sword for Cullen himself, but without Annabel here with him, he finds it hard to estimate the proportions. For a moment he considers sneaking his way into her quarters, but _no, that’s foolish_ , and besides, it’s too close to Josephine’s office, and the risk of being caught outweighs any gains he could make. He furrows his brow, trying to envision Annabel next to him—the times he’s stood beside her in the war room, in his office, in the training yard are countless, he’s _imagined_ being beside her even more times than that, and yet try as he might, he’s coming up empty. 

“I should _know_ ,” he mutters. 

“Know what?” 

He nearly drops the sword at the sound of Rylen’s voice and whips around to find not only the Knight-Captain, but also Barris, Belinda, and Lysette. 

“I didn’t realize I was hosting a templar party in my office,” he sighs, waving the sword about as he gestures around him. The group has taken to having dinners together sometimes, and unfortunately—or _perhaps fortunately_ , he has to admit, as he has few people in the Inquisition whose pasts can align so well with his—these dinners have come to stretch into more impromptu gatherings, and it’s quite often that the band of templars (and former templars) “surprise” him in the middle of his work—usually whether he’s ready to socialize or not. 

“That’s a bit of a small blade for you, isn’t it, Commander?” Barris comments, eyeing the sword, and Rylen chuckles. 

“Maybe it’s proportionate to—” 

“Rylen!” hisses Belinda. “Don’t be crude.” 

“It is _not_ ,” Cullen growls, reddening, “proportionate to...anything.” He clears his throat. “It’s a gift for someone.” He waits—perhaps _dares_ —the four of them to ask who the lucky recipient may be. 

No one does. 

_They don’t even look curious_ , he thinks, rather disappointedly. 

“So, where is Annabel?” Lysette pipes up. 

In a fraction of a second, Cullen is gaping, Belinda’s elbowing Lysette in the ribs, and Barris and Rylen are snickering. 

“You—” Cullen sputters. “I—I never _said_ it was for Annabel!” 

“Didn’t have to,” Rylen mutters, but Belinda smiles sympathetically. 

“Cullen, everyone—well, I mean, _we_ know that you two...have ‘feelings’—”  


“I don’t know if _she_ feels the same way!” Cullen rushes, all but admitting what apparently the four had known already. Barris and Rylen only laugh again. 

“I would not worry too much,” Lysette says cautiously. “But when are you planning on giving it to her?” 

Cullen sighs. “That’s just it. It just arrived, but I’m not sure if it’s right. I don’t...well, Belinda, maybe you could…?” 

The templar raises her eyebrows. “She has to be a bit smaller than me, Commander.” At his pleading look, she sighs. “All right then. Let me see.” 

Carefully, he offers the sword to Belinda, who takes it with ease, balancing the blade between her fingers before turning it, swishing it, testing it out. “Good sword,” she comments with an approving nod. “I’m sure Annabel will—” 

And for the second time that afternoon, Cullen’s office door bursts open, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. It’s her. 

_Annabel_. 

“Cullen!” she greets him, always with that pretty smile, the slight upward turn at her lips when she seems him. “Josephine let me go early, I—” She stops when she takes note of the others present, smile not faltering, but surely showing a bit of confusion. “Sers,” she says kindly, nodding, and the four templars scramble into a salute. 

“Inquisitor,” some mumble as the others hurry to “Your Worship!” 

She waves them at ease with a quick flash of her hand. “I’m sorry,” she admits, “I didn’t know you had...what’s that?” 

Cullen watches as her gaze fixates on the sword in Belinda’s hand. She has to know it’s brand new, the way it glitters along to the few rays of sunshine streaming in from the cracks in his ceiling. 

“Um!” Belinda starts. 

“Nothing!” Rylen and Barris say simultaneously, and Cullen curses the two silently, though he knows they mean well to cover his tracks. 

“A sword,” Lysette offers. 

_Obviously._

Cullen clears his throat. 

“It’s a gift,” he explains, blushing, but her brow only furrows further. 

“A gift for...Belinda?” 

“N-no! Uh, no, Annabel, it’s not...I mean, that’s to say...Maker’s breath.” He runs a hand through his hair, pausing at the back of his neck to rub his hairline awkwardly. “It’s a gift for _you_. I just...I wasn’t sure if it was the right fit, and—” 

“Oh, _Cullen_ ,” she says breathlessly, stepping forward when Belinda offers the sword out to her. “It’s beautiful! I didn’t think...I didn’t know…” She feels the weight of it in her hand, twirls the blade around, eyes lingering on the engraving. “Thank you,” she whispers, and he beams. 

“It’s nothing,” he says softly, any misgivings he’d had erased at once at the sight of her happiness. 

It’s not until Rylen begins to clap that Belinda ushers the rest of them out of the room, and though Cullen knows he’s blushing, he can’t quite bring himself to care. 

“Thank you,” Annabel says again once they’ve left. “I love it, Cullen.” She sets the sword down on his desk with care and pulls him into a warm hug—a surprising gesture, but as he wraps his arms around her and breathes in the smell of her hair and feels her warmth against him, he knows he wouldn’t trade it for anything. 


End file.
